


Just Friends

by RandomnonsenseDA (B1nary_S0lo)



Series: Rora Surana [10]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Dragon Age Quest: Broken Circle, Dragon Age Quest: The Arl of Redcliffe, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Implied Cullen/Surana, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-01 10:34:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13996428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B1nary_S0lo/pseuds/RandomnonsenseDA
Summary: Alistair and Rora are just friends. Little by little, that changes.





	Just Friends

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been trying to write Alistair and Rora’s “how they got together” story for a loong time, but I was never able to get it right until now. Problem was, I was trying too hard to tell the story as a continuous narrative, even though, in my mind, their romance developed very gradually. So then I thought, why not do a story showing all the small moments that led to them getting together? This story is the result.
> 
> Also, this piece does occasionally reference a few other stories in Rora's series, but it can be understood without having read them. If you're interested, though, those stories are: "Walls of Stone" (more context for the Cullen/Rora attraction), "A Ritual" (more about Alistair and Rora's dynamic as friends), and "Captive" (more about Rora encountering Cullen during the Broken Circle quest).

They were hiking through the Hinterlands on a crisp, late winter day. Rora and Alistair walked side by side at the head of the group. But with the way they swayed and joked and laughed they might have been on a casual stroll, not leading a mission to stop the Blight.

Rora wove closer to Alistair. She bumped him with her hip. He bumped her back and soon they were shoving each other in a playful competition to knock each other off the trail. They were breathless with laughter, so loud that they didn’t notice Leliana until she came right up behind them.

“Ahh,” she said. “I’ve figured it out. You two are together.”

The pair paused mid-shove. Leliana adjusted her pack and fell into step with them. Her eyes sparkled.

“You are, aren’t you?” She clicked her tongue. “I can always tell.”

Rora and Alistair moved the slightest bit apart. He scratched his head.

“You’ve got it wrong. We’re not a  _couple_.”

“Mm-hm.” Rora’s voice was pitched higher than usual. “We’re friends. Just friends.”

Leliana looked from one of them to the other, eyebrows raised.

“I see. My mistake.”

 

They sat by the fire on a night when they couldn’t sleep. Alistair shivered, hugged himself and rubbed his arms. Rora made a noise of sympathy and scooted closer.

“Are you cold?”

He laughed, trying to meet her eyes in the dim light.

“You’re not?”

She shook her head. “Not if I don’t have to be.” Her skin was warm with magic, and she reached out and touched his shoulder with both hands. “See?”

Alistair tensed, but didn’t pull away. Rora did, though. She folded her hands in her lap, face hot, but not with magic. She and Alistair were close friends, but aside from occasional horsing around they weren’t touchy feely. It was like she’d forgotten.

Alistair cleared his throat and rubbed his hands together. “That’s a neat trick. Wish I could do it.”

 

They were battling Darkspawn in a forest clearing. Rora stood with Morrigan at the back of the group. Though her skin prickled at the presence of the Darkspawn her focus was entirely on firing spell after spell at her enemies. Until the ogre.

It charged through the forest, shaking the ground and knocking branches loose from the trees. It burst into the clearing with a roar, but before this could distract Rora, Alistair raised his sword and charged. He ran past Sten, past the few remaining Darkspawn. He leapt.

Alistair’s feet struck the ogre’s chest and it went down, but not before he dragged his sword across its torso. It hit the ground with a thud that shook the trees. Instantly, Alistair was on top of it, slashing and stabbing, until it moved no more.

He stood up and wiped his brow. Rora’s gaze traveled from his tensed muscles to his easy posture as he sheathed his sword. The sounds of the battle faded. Her mouth went dry.

“Rora! Be careful!”

Leliana’s voice. Rora blinked and turned back to the remaining Darkspawn.

 

They were preparing Redcliffe Village for the undead attack. Only a few hours of daylight remained, and Rora and Alistair spent it constructing wooden barriers for archers to hide behind. They worked quickly, in silence. Rora’s thoughts were scattered, flitting from the state they’d found Redcliffe in, to worries about the arl, to Alistair’s confession that morning about who his father was. Even as they worked she kept watching him, but saw nothing in his face to hint at how he was feeling.

Together, they raised another log onto the barrier. Once they set it down, Alistair stretched and wiped sweat from his eyes. Rora slapped her hands together, hoping to remove any splinters but only discovering calluses. When she looked up their eyes met for the first time in hours.

The corner of her mouth turned up, more a smile of concern than anything else. She moved closer.

“Are you all right?”

He shrugged. “Fine. Just tired.”

“But… your home.” She gestured to the battlefield being made of the village around them. “It must be hard, seeing it like this.”

He worked out a crick in his neck, then sighed. “It was never much of a home.” There was an edge of bitterness in his voice. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

He offered her a smile, then turned to the next log. Rora watched him, throat aching. Suddenly she wanted to hurl herself between him and the rest of the world. Her head spun, it was such a strong urge.

 

They were in the sitting room of the Spoiled Princess inn. Days after Redcliffe, hours after the Circle. On one of the couches, Rora sobbed in Alistair’s arms. They were alone. Everyone else was asleep upstairs.

“I couldn’t do anything.” Her voice was muffled against his chest. “I couldn’t save them!”

He shushed her. He rubbed her back, stroked her hair. It seemed like the right thing to do, the sort of thing a friend should do. The front of his shirt was wet from her tears.

“You did everything you could,” he said. “You’ve saved so many people already. You’ll save Connor and Isolde and Arl Eamon, too.”

But she kept crying, breath coming in huge gasps. Her hands were tangled in his shirt collar, and for some reason it was distracting. He could feel her fingers, warm and ticklish, near his collarbone. He cleared his throat.

“You’re doing just fine.” His voice was a near whisper, quiet so only she could hear. “Everything’s going to be all right.”

Little by little, her sobs quieted. Her breathing evened out and her grip relaxed. Alistair wished he could relax too. He was hyper aware of press of her body against his, of her warmth, her smallness, the silkiness of her hair. She smelled nice, like ink and rain.

His thoughts raced to that Templar they’d found trapped in the Circle, and how she nearly hurt herself trying to free him. Ice spread through his chest. He didn’t know why.

 

They were in the library in Redcliffe Castle, after Connor’s rescue by the mages. Alistair had gone there alone, hoping for some distraction. He was surprised when Rora followed him. They hadn’t spoken since the inn. He suspected it was because she was worn out, but worried she was avoiding him.

Now, she walked right up to him and placed something in his hands. “I think this is yours.”

He stared. The amulet was covered in hairline cracks and emblazoned with Andraste’s symbol. He knew it at once.

He tore his eyes from his mother’s amulet, finally found his voice. “Where did you find this?”

“In the arl’s study.” Her voice was hoarse and her face was pale, save for the dark circles under her eyes. But her gaze was clear. “I recognized it right away and, well, giving it to you is the least I could do.”

She looked away then, biting her lip, and Alistair’s face went hot. The memory of her in his arms came back to him, so vivid his head spun. He had to look away too, back to the safety of the amulet.

“I’m surprised you remembered.” He said at last. “I’m used to people ignoring me when I go on about things.”

“Of  _course_  I remembered.” The sudden fierceness in her voice made him look at her again. A strand of hair hung over one of her eyes, and her fists were clenched. “I  _care_  about you, Alistair.”

 

They were in camp, a few days out from Redcliffe. The days were growing longer, so there was still some light when Alistair asked Rora to take a walk with him after dinner. They went a little ways into the trees at the edge of camp, not saying much. They were tired out from the last few days. Alistair was in a panic.

The feelings he’d wrestled with since that night in the inn had only strengthened after she gave him the amulet. He thought of her constantly. Her deep brown eyes, her scent, her warmth. Sometimes, with a stab of pain, he remembered her with that trapped Templar. He couldn’t stand it anymore. He had to act. More than that, he had to  _know._

He stopped, faced her. Her eyes were wide, and he imagined what he must look like right now. Face flushed, expression wild. But he couldn’t give up now.

“Here.” He placed the rose in her hands. “Do you know what this is?”

 

Rora tossed and turned that night in the dark of her tent. So much that Leo, her Mabari, whined and went to sleep in a corner where he wouldn’t be disturbed. The rose lay atop her journal, next to her bedroll.

Her thoughts churned back to moments with Alistair. Long, joke-filled conversations that left them gasping with laughter. Chats in the dark by the fire. The muscles in his shoulders tensing at her touch. His strong arms holding her, keeping her so safe she could have drifted off in them. The warmth in his eyes when he gave her the rose. The disappointment when she gave him no clear answer to his question.

She curled into a ball, clutching her chest. The thought of doing something wrong and losing Alistair as a friend made her eyes sting. But more aching still was the idea of never feeling his arms around her again. She was afraid, but she knew what she had to do.

 

It was only a day later but it felt like an age to Alistair. This time she found him, she led him into the trees at dusk. Though the party had hiked to a new campsite, Alistair was dizzy with deja vu. Or maybe that was just his exhaustion. He hadn’t slept well.

She turned to face him when they stopped. There were little spots of pink on her cheeks and her chest rose and fell, as though she’d run a long way. He swallowed, then spoke in rush.

“I’m sorry about yesterday. I shouldn’tve been so impulsive. I hope you can—”

She was in his arms before he could finish, closing the space so fast he almost stumbled. He caught her and held her tight, his body reacting before his mind could catch up. She buried her face in his chest. When she spoke, her voice was muffled.

“I’m sorry, Alistair.” Her fingers dug into the back of his shirt. “I don’t want to be just friends anymore either. I should have said.”

His ears roared. He hugged her tighter, closer, fingers in her hair, across her back. Trying to convince himself she was really there.

“Don’t be sorry,” he said. “Honestly, it was worth the wait.”

She laughed, shaking against him. Her palms whispered across his back, and he rested his chin on top of her head. They held each other for a long time in the forest, in the twilight.


End file.
